


A Spoon Full of Sugar

by ImBackBoi



Series: Things that will never be finished or fully fleshed out [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alfred has an accident, Alfred's keeping secrets from the Fam, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cancer, F/M, Gen, Half researched half hand wavy medical stuff, Jason is there, Leslie is not impressed with your attitude Pennyworth, Maggie from B:TAS is here to stay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImBackBoi/pseuds/ImBackBoi
Summary: After Batman uses him to try and find a way to resurrect Damian, Jason walks away with the realization that Bruce really doesn't love him – this him. Doesn't trust him. Doesn't want him. Doesn't need him. He may have been Robin, but he's not family.(And really, that should have been obvious after the whole throat slitting debacle, but Jason's a slow learner.)He goes on, living his life... Until he runs into Alfred, who's keeping his own secrets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody help me come up with a better title for this. For fucks sake it's awful...

Probably the most surprising thing about seeing Alfred again were the emotions that came with the experience. It had been well over a year since his last run in with any of the bats, and in that time Jason thought he had successfully come to terms with reality.

Now, with heartbeats like thunder, the man realized that, no, he really hadn't.

“Master Jason.”

“Alfred.”

Jason peered down at the old man.

When had Alfred gotten so... small? A year ago, the butler had had perfect posture, healthy color, more muscle... None of this gaunt grayness. No pinched look of pain or hunched shoulders.

“You look like shit, Al,” Jason announced, “What the hell?”

“I _am_ an old man,” Alfred sniffed, “You cannot expect me to remain in perfect health forever.”

_Can too_, thought the young man. _Just you watch me._

“Getting old is a gradual decline. This,” he gestured at Alfreds everything, “is more of a 'I fell off a building and forgot my line'.”

“I assure you, I am as healthy as ever. Age has merely caught up with me.” Jason frowned.

“That's bullshit.”

Alfred frowned back. For a second, Jason felt a flicker of fear, and then reminded himself that (by the mans own admission) Alfred was _old_, and Jason himself wasn't exactly family anymore now was he?

“If you are quite done questioning my ability to know my own body, there are groceries that still need to be purchased,” the butler snipped, maneuvered his cart around Jason, and started down the baking aisle.

Looks like shit. Irritable, Jason cataloged mentally, Loose clothes. Pained face. Moving slower.

There was a slight tremor in Alfred's hand as he reached for a large sack of flour.

“So, when did you get sick?”

The bag of flour hit the floor with a poof of white. Jason picked it up, replaced it, and put a new one the cart as Alfred stared at him.

“While I am very glad to see you alive and healthy, Master Jason, I do not appreciate being interrogated.”

“It's not an interrogation, Al, just a question.”

“A false hypothesis.”

“Al,” Jason watched the old man tense. He went on quietly, “You're limping and you look exhausted.”

Alfred turned from his former charge and began pushing the cart down the aisle.

Away from Jason.

Hurt flared. It burned in the young mans chest as he watched someone he had admired (and still did) and had loved (still did that, too) as a grandfather, leave him in the figurative dust. Jason rubbed his throat and his shoulders sagged despondently.

Alfred turned the corner and vanished.

In through the nose, out through the mouth – Jason turned and went in the opposite direction.

…

It happened as Jason was putting the groceries in the trunk of his car.

He'd just finished up and slammed it shut. Then he'd glanced back at the store as Alfred walked out, pushing a cart full of groceries. Jason froze. Somehow, intuition or premonition, he _knew._

As if in slow-motion, the old mans cart jumped off the curb, bounced out of control, and began to tip - taking Alfred down with it as he desperately tried to right it. Jason was moving before the butler hit the ground, and was close enough for the cry of pain to cut straight across his heart.

“_Alfred_!”

Jason skidded to a halt, almost tripping in his haste.

“Alfred! Are you – are you okay? Are you hurt? Here, let me get this outa the way-” he quickly shoved the bagged and displaced groceries back in the cart and righted it. Then he knelt. Alfred was carefully pushing himself up in a leaning position. His face was white as death.

“I need to check it. Al. Alfred,” Jason pleaded, “let me help-”

“Ohmygosh!-”

“Is everything okay?”

“Ohmygosh!-

“Get the manager!”

“That curbs a danger, always said so.”

“They should sue-”

“_Shut the hell up and back the fuck off!”_ Jason barked angrily at the small crowd gathering. “Alfred?”

The butler tipped his head.

“Where's it hurt?”

“Hip,” the old man ground out, “Leg.”

Jason nodded. Not good.

“Do you think you can stand?”

Alfred breathed deep and exhaled. Jason ignored the crowd and the manager.

“No,” his voice was tight, thin, and filled with pain, “I do not believe so.”

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to call an ambulance, alright?”

“Um, excuse me,” the manager squatted down beside them, “I've already called them. Company policy.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks?”

The manager smiled wryly.

“No problem. The company would rather foot the bill for an ambulance ride than fix the damn curb.”

Jason snorted and turned his attention back to Alfred.

“Al. Hey, Al. I think you should lay down so you don't pass out.”

“If you think... for one second... I'm going... to soil... my clothes...-”

Jason stripped his jacket and snapped it out on the ground behind Alfred.

“Please lay down, Alfred.”

Sighing, Alfred did.

…

Jason rode with Alfred in the ambulance to the hospital. Helped get him checked into the ER. Waited patiently, if a bit twitchily, as the nurses took vitals, hooked him up to an IV, and drew blood. Didn't stab anyone while waiting for them to finish x-raying. And, when he finally came, valiantly didn't murder the Doctor for his ten second 'if-he's-not-dying-he's-not-worth-my-time' visit.

“Hospitals are bullshit,” Jason said grumpily after the nurses left and he'd made sure the butler was comfortable.

“Young man,” Alfred blinked dazedly at him, “did you know your language can be quite obscene at times?”

This surprised a laugh out of Jason. He was slouched in a chair that looked like it was comfortable, but the comfort was a lie.

“Damn skippy,” he pushed himself back into a more upright position. Still a lie.

“Do you remember, long ago, when Master Dick bet that you would be unable to not swear for a week?”

Jason didn't, actually.

“I'd never laughed so hard in my life! In all my years, I'd never heard anyone bandy about Shakespearean and classical insults with such panache. The creativity which you delivered so seriously,” Alfred smiled at the memory, “You cannot fault me for taking immense satisfaction in your father's distress during that week. He did not find it nearly as amusing as your brother or I did.”

A faint memory stirred.

“...he tried to tell me that crime fighting wasn't supposed to be funny,” Jason stared, he didn't like Alfred using the words brother or father in relation to either of the other two bats, but he wasn't about to screw this up.

_You are such a grumbletonian. Who pissed in your giggle-juice, eh?_

_Robin._

_Jeez, you are such a fussbudget, old man. Hey, you know that ninnyhammer owes me like, two-hundred bucks in two hours, right?_

_Robin! This crusade is not a joke!_

Batman had just sighed and shook his head in the end. But Jason had succeeded by the end of the night in making him laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. It had been one of the rare times the three of them had actually gotten along. Then Dick had to try and ruin it by trying to get out of paying up.

“Yes, I remember...” the old man trailed off wistfully, staring into the past.

“Hey, Alfred?”

It took a few moments, but Alfred pulled himself out of whatever memory he was reliving.

“How bad is it?” Jason asked softly, “And don't try and tell me it's not.”

Alfred sighed and shut his eyes. For a second, Jason thought he might pretend to, or really, go to sleep. But then he opened his eyes, stared at the IV in his arm and said,

“In my advanced age, I may have developed a case of bone cancer-”Jason inhaled sharply. “Other than my physicians and Dr. Thompkins, you are the only one to have found out, and I would very much like to keep it that way.”

The young man exhaled. Fucking shit. _Bone cancer?!_

“Why?”

“It is my wish that they do not know. I... It is not their burden to bear. It is my penance, so to speak. My punishment for letting things get to far out of hand. For not reigning in when I had the chance to make a difference.”

The old mans eyes glistened.

“My dear boy,” Alfred whispered, “My dear, dear boy... As I am now, I cannot protect you. But had you ever needed me, called for me, I would have come. I am not the Master and I do not abide by certain rules.”

Jason froze. It was just the drugs talking.

_Just the drugs._

“-Well, it looks like you've got a hairline fracture in your hip. It's very minor and while it doesn't seem like it'll need surgery it most probably will,” the Doctor waltzed into the room without looking up from his clipboard. He stopped at the foot of the bed and flipped the page, “Schedule a follow-up with a specialist ASAP because of your age. There is also a minor fracture along the distal femoral shaft of the same leg. It's oblique and fairly simple. Nothing in the surrounding area seems to be damaged, so we can wait for you to stabilize before we do surgery. Should be sometime tomorrow.”

Teal eyes glared angrily. Jason memorized the Doctors face and the name on the tag – 'Salinas' – just in case they ever met in a dark alley.

“A nurse will admit you for the night and have you transferred when she comes back with your blood work. Until then, be more careful, don't eat anything after midnight, and don't fall down again. ”

The doctor let the papers flutter down and slipped the board beneath an arm before they even laid flat. Jason imagined shooting the asshole as he reached into his pocket and was on his cell-phone before he even stepped out of the room.

“Hospitals are bullshit.”

“They are indeed.”

…

Jason went back to the safe house briefly the next day. He'd left as soon as Alfred went in and was back well before he was out.

“_Hey, Jaybird,” Roy leaned against the door frame, watching his friend change his shirt, “How's the old man?”_

“_Doped up,” Jason grunted, “he's on the good stuff, at least.”_

“_Is he gunna have to have surgery?”_

“_Yeah. He's in there now.”_

_Roy frowned._

“_Are you going to call the others?”_

_Jason made a face and his friend laughed,_

“_Right, I'll take that as not just no, but 'hell no'.”_

“_I'll call them after the surgery.” _

“_Uh-huh.”_

_Jason slipped on a button up, rolled up the sleeves and pulled on a jacket. _

“_I gotta go. Keep up the surveillance. I'll be back later.”_

_Arsenal saluted._

“_Sure thing, boss.” _

Now, later that same afternoon, Jason sat in the waiting room.

Waiting.

He had Alfreds phone in his hands. Idly, he fiddled with the device without looking at it and then damn near dropped it when it rang.

Jason stared.

Bruce. Fuck. _Fuck_ no.

He let it ring. It went to voice-mail.

Bullshit. Such bullshit. Everything was bullshit. 

He'd already followed Alfred's instructions by calling Dr. Thompkins earlier and letting her know what had happened and had also relayed the message that she was to call Bruce (apparently they already had a plan for this type of thing. _Why_?). Cassandra was in Hong Kong, Alfred had told him not to worry her needlessly. Tim was working, to busy to be disturbed. Damian was off having adventures with the Titans, and Alfred was very happy he was socializing with people his own age (_'Leave the young sir to his devices.')_

Bruce? Bruce had frigging amnesia. Talk about worthless. 

Dick? Dick, of all people, was still dead.

The cellphone cracked dangerously in his hand. 

"_Shit_!" 

…

Slamming the door wasn't as satisfying as Jason thought it'd be. Nor was watching Roy jump.

“Hey!” Roy pulled off his headset, “You're back a lot sooner than I thought you'd be. How'd it go?”

“Fine.”

“That bad, huh?”

Jason grunted, throwing himself on the couch, “Any movement?”

“No, not really,” Roy squinted, “Something interesting though. We're not the only one watching these guys.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Roy switched monitors and pulled up old footage, “Whoever they are, they're not Bat-related for one – way too low-tech and no pointy ears-”

“Funny.”

“And if they had been bat related, they probably would have grappled in and not climbed. Heck, the only reason I caught them was because of a reflection in a window.”

Jason hauled himself off the couch to lean over his friends shoulder.

“There -” Roy froze the image and zoomed in. A finger pointed to a spot on the screen, “- see? The reflection in the window shows someone scaling the wall.”

“Damn. Good catch.”

“Thanks,” the redhead worked his tech magic and the image changed, “I also caught a brief heat signature, but that was covered up pretty quickly. Whoever it is isn't broadcasting either. Pure observation.”

The screen changed again.

“And _this_ is what I got today.”

Jason grinned and his bad mood lightened.

_Perfect._

Alfred wasn't going to die, Jason had waited around just long enough for the old man to come out of surgery and be transferred back to his room, where he was resting peacefully doped up to his eyeballs. Jason had stared good and hard at the man and had decided that he'd be making more of an effort to check in on his maybe psuedo-grandfather sooner rather than later.

But for now, he'd be taking his agitation out on some would be mafia types.

…

“Are you going to tell them the truth now?”

“Absolutely not,” Alfred fiddled with his jello, “And neither will you.”

“I cannot recommend that, Alfred. Don't they deserve to know the truth?” Leslie frowned, “It's the same kind of behavior we keep trying to beat out of everyone else!”

“I am aware, Leslie. However, this illness and the life or death situations my charges constantly find themselves in are vastly different.”

“Hmm.”

Alfred sighed.

“If it makes you feel any better, Jason knows.”

“Hmm.”

They sat in silence.

“Before you ask, yes, I've already talked to the doctor about patient confidentiality and yes they're all willing to respect your wishes on keeping the cancer thing quiet.” Leslie adjusted herself in her chair, “Bruce will be here within the day to check up on you. I've suggested to him that what you need most is peace and quiet, so his future visits will probably be short."

Alfred finished his jello. Leslie waited.

“I stand by my decision to keep my secret, and need I remind you, you promised to help me keep it quiet.”

“Yes, well, I just hope you have a plan to deal with the fallout for when they find out. And they will; most likely sooner, rather than later... But if this is what you want, then so be it.” Leslie bowed her head and raised it again, “In that case, I don't wish to argue with you any longer, and I'll respect your wishes. However, you don't have go at it alone you know.”

“I'm not.” He said sharply. She raised a brow.

“Of course you're not alone. But that's not what I meant and you know it,” she sighed, “Now. Personal recommendations aside, I also have a medical one. Before, you mentioned wanting to avoid radiation therapy (for which I don't blame you). Opting for something less extreme, correct?”

Alfred nodded.

“Well, I've made some inquiries and I believe I've found you a place. It's new. They even do rehabilitation and house calls. I think you'll like it very much.”

…


	2. Chapter 2

2

“I'm going to be staying in Gotham for a while,” Jason told Roy. “You can stay, too, if you want. I mean, I've got the room. But I have to stay and keep an eye on Alfred.”

Roy looked troubled.

“What about the Bats?”

It wasn't telling when Jason scowled. He always clammed up at any mention of Bats.

“They're not involved.”

Ever since Batman had dragged him off to Ethiopia to relive his death in hopes of finding some missing link that would help bring back Robin, Jason hadn't worked with any of the Bats. In Jason's eyes, that betrayal had been the last straw. Using him to help resurrect the demon son when Batman couldn't even take care of the monster that still haunted and hunted Jason.

You didn't throw family under the bus like that. Even Ollie had never done something like that and Oliver Queen was the _lesser_ of the two 'dads'.

“I'll hang out a while,” Roy said, “Someone's gotta keep you in line. And I can visit Waylon while you run around stuffing heads in duffle-bags.”

“About that...” the younger man hesitated. Which was strange, because Jason _rarely_ hesitated. He almost always had some kind of plan of action mapped out – good or bad, at least it was something. What was he nervous about? “I think we should lay low for awhile.”

Okay. Not so strange. Still, there was more, Roy could tell.

“Lay low?”

Good lord, now Jay was fiddling with his cuff. He needed a beer. This was so weird.

“I don't want to give up being the Red Hood... but I think that maybe taking a break until Alfred gets better might be a good idea.” Jason admitted quietly. He leaned foreword, “Not permanently, but maybe instead of more action, we could be doing something a little more... passive-aggressive. I just. I _need_ to be here._”_

“It hurt to say that, didn't it?” _I'm so proud of you, Jaybird. _

“Shut up, Roy.” Oof, now he was starting to get irritated. Well, that wasn't new.

“I'm joking,” Roy waved a hand and kicked his feet up on the coffee table covered with electronics, “No, this is really cool. I can get a chance to test out a lot of new surveillance tech, you can put on your acting shoes and be my test dummy,” (Jaybird made a face) “Dude, we could totally pull of a Burn Notice. I can be Michael and you can be my Sam. All we have to do is find a Fiona.”

Jason face palmed.

“I never should have let you watch that show,” he grumbled, “and if anyone gets to be Michael, it's me.”

“Sure, buddy. Whatever.” Roy punched his shoulder and Jason grunted, “but everyone knows I'm the sexier one.”

They sat in silence.

“Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

...

Jason pulled the cab up the lane, let the taxi idle as he hoped out and sauntered up to the Manor doors. He rang the doorbell (a few more times than was polite), stuffed his hands into his pockets and wriggled his toothpick. Then he waited.

It was a good three minutes before the door opened and Alfred stared at him. He was using crutches.

“Ready tah go, sir?” he grinned while the guilt churned quietly in his gut. “Yer lady-friend called and said ya needed a ride to yer appointment. I says sure, an' sure as heck, here I am.”

“...Indeed.” Alfred's face twitched and Jason could tell he was caught somewhere between being horrified and terribly amused. Jason decided to lean towards amused when Alfred put on his acting voice and said, “I shall be out shortly. Please pull your cab around to the side door over there.”

Jason bobbed his head and wriggled the toothpick extra hard.

“Sure thang, sure thang.”

Jason drove the taxi over to the side door and ten minutes later, Alfred came out dressed in a light coat, newsboy, and still wielding his crutches.

“Nice set ya got, sir,” Jason opened the back passenger door. Alfred shot him a dirty look as he took the crutches and helped the old man into the cab.

“All the better for disciplining the young.”

“Oh, I'm sure, I'm sure. Beat the demons out of 'em, I'm sure.”

He heard a snort right before he slammed the door shut. Jason clamped down on the toothpick in an effort not to grin, stuffed the crutches, and got in the car.

“You tell that meddling Doctor Thompkin's that I am thoroughly annoyed with her.”

Jason put the taxi in gear and started down the drive.

“Sure, sure-”

“_Master Jason_, do speak like the cultured young man I know you to be.”

Jason sighed.

“Yes, Alfred.”

The ride was quiet for some time until Jason deemed the old man had stewed long enough.

“I only want to help, Al,” he pulled off the highway and onto the feeder, “and if you really don't want me too, then I'll content myself with spying from afar. All you have to do is tell me. Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to listen. Even obey. Sometimes.”

Alfred sighed. He knew that. Of course he did. And, yes, he really did need the help. The problem was accepting it.

“Young man,” he began, “when one gets to be of a certain age, it becomes increasingly hard to accept the fact that ones body is no longer as strong or as capable as it once was. As for your help, it is appreciated. However, kindly inform me of it before you do it next time.”

“And give you the chance to tell me no? Then you'd be falling down somewhere _else_ without anyone around to help you.” Jason's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, “I meant it though, if you tell me to stop, I'll stop. But be prepared to be stalked.”

“Your honesty on the matter is refreshing,” Alfred said dryly, “However, I do not feel as adverse to the notion as before.”

“Awesome.”

The location of the clinic was a good 40 minutes west from Wayne Manor, and was, ironically, another mansion.

“Wonder how they scored this place,” Jason said as they sat on the benches under the long awning over the front doors used for covered drop-offs. He was grateful for it. They were early and it was spring, so the weather was gray and drizzly.

He'd dropped Alfred off at the front doors, parked the car, and changed his ratty leather jacket for something more acceptable, straightened his posture and combed back his hair (Alfred had nodded approvingly at the change, and Jason suspected he wouldn't have been allowed to go inside had he not done something about his appearance).

“We shall have to ask.”

The grounds were neat and well kept, but were sprawling and inviting as well. There were a few picnic tables around, some with an arbor, some not. In the green middle of the circle drive directly in front of the building was a statue with a howling wolf. Jason frowned at it.

The door opened, and a shortish, graying ginger with curves and swerves exclaimed delightedly,

“Mr. Pennyworth!” She's British, Jason thought, God help us all. “I'm so glad you made it, luv! Fantastic! Who's this handsome young man? Your grandson?”

“You could say that, my dear.” Alfred replied. Jason winked at her,

“He's lying. I'm actually his body-guard.”

The ginger laughed.

“Well, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Donna Temple. You can call me Dr. Donna, everyone else does.” She shook his hand, “You come right inside then and sign in and we'll get you seen ASAP. You're our very first patient of the day!”

…

Dr. Donna was cheerful and too the point and Jason appreciated that. She questioned Alfred on how he was feeling and how he'd been getting along after leaving the hospital. Wanted to make that he was staying off his feet. Asked about his diet-

“You should really look into drinking more bone broth in addition to taking more calcium to help your fracture,” she was saying, “It's good for a plethora of things, but especially for someone in your condition. It really packs in a lot of nutrients when other things might not be so appetizing.”

Alfred was nodding, but Jason suddenly perked up. He'd kept quiet throughout most of it, but _this._

“You mean the cancer, right?”

Dr. Donna froze, mouth half open-

“It's quite alright, my dear,” Alfred said, “He's knows. You may explain.”

“Oh. Of course,” she pursed her lips. “Mr. Pennyworth's cancer is... extensive. However, it hasn't spread yet to his internal organs or to his lymph nodes, nor is it terminal. But it's all over the place. It's quite strange in that way, but the appearance of the cancer itself isn't abnormal.”

“Yet?”

Dr. Donna nodded.

“Yes. With out some kind of treatment, it will spread further and become terminal. It may be later this year, it may be in five years, but...”

Jason grimaced.

“Yeah,” he said, “I got that much.”

“To be fair though, I've seen people with much worse cases last quite a while all because they had the right support system. Medicine alone isn't enough. It's a good thing you're here. Family plays a big part in recovery.”

Jason flushed.

“What we aim to do here is to treat the cancer as naturally as we can,” Dr. Donna went on, “Your grandfather has made the decision to avoid radiation therapy, a very wise choice at his age. There are some options we can go with. There's the completely natural route with an intense regiment of supplements, pro-biotics, a strict diet, and alternative treatments such as acupuncture and acupressure. There are also some drugs that have proven effective as a cancer treatment that can be used in conjunction with a holistic treatment. Even some strange ones like the carrot juice only diet.” She looked at Jason earnestly, “In the end though, Mr. Pennyworth has the final say in whatever treatment he gets. I can only provide the options and services and run the blood work. Did that help any?”

“Uh...” he blinked, “Yeah. Thanks. Wait, what's your success rate?”

“Young man!” Alfred scowled, Dr. Donna laughed.

...

Leslie answered the phone with a curt, “How did the appointment go?”

“It went well enough,” Alfred replied, “Though I do not appreciate you arranging a chauffeur with out my consent.”

Leslie laughed.

“To be honest, Alfred, it was all his idea. All I did was provide the date.”

Alfred sighed. He'd been afraid of that.

“And I think it's good for him to be able to help you,” Leslie went on, “Instead of brooding or plotting violent coups or whatever it is he does with his time now a days.”

“Yes, I guess there is that.”

“I'm glad we agree. Now, have you arranged for him to pick you up for your next appointment?”

Alfred sighed again.

“I have. The young man practically forced my hand.”

“Pssh. I don't believe it.”

“Believe what you will. I will let you know when the results come in, but for now, I must get back to my spaghetti.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Alfred. Take care of yourself.”

“The same to you, Leslie. Goodbye.”

…

Something clattered as the Red Hood (helmet-less, but still domino'd ) pushed the door open. He glared at the culprit – soda cans.

“_Really, Jay? I though you were stealthier than that,”_ Arsenal snickered in his ear.

Shut up, Roy – Muffled screaming had him opening the door the rest of the way, consequences be damned. What greeted him was _not_ what he expected.

Arsenal began laughing in his ear.

A man was gagged and bound to a chair with what looked like duct-tape, zip ties, and actual neck ties. He was in his socks and briefs and a look of pure terror. Red Hood didn't blame him since his chair was tilted precariously out the window and the only thing stopping him from falling was another tie.

“_Oh, look,”_ said a deep, mutilated voice, “_Seems like you're popular tonight, Juanito. He doesn't look too friendly, either. Not like me. I've been very nice to you, haven't I?”_

The bound man's eyes bulged and rolled.

“_That's not Batman.”_ A shadow in the window behind Juanito moved and the gross voice mused, “_Maybe it's the Red Hood? I heard he doesn't like guys like you.”_

Juanito whimpered. Faint laughter, and the voice was gone.

“_Well, that was different_. _In pursuit.”_

“You're telling me,” Red Hood strode into the room. “You get robbed, Juanny-boy?”

“Mmmmm!”

He inspected the ties keeping Juanito (real name Juan Roberts, a man with the face only a mother could love and a rap sheet just as ugly). Red Hood flicked one of the ties and the whole thing – Juan, chair, ties, bed – shuddered.

“Gosh that doesn't look too stable,” Red Hood grinned despite himself. “Hey, you mind if I take a look around? Gee thanks. Oh, and don't go anywhere, I've got a few questions for you later.”

He snooped around for a few minutes, eventually found a laptop and booted it up.

“_Our friend is gone,” _Arsenal huffed a minute later, “_I followed as far as I could. Couldn't get a clear shot for a tracking arrow, but I have a feeling whoever it is will be back. Probably not here. But somewhere.”_ The van door slammed, “_You in?”_

“Just finished booting up now,” Red Hood replied, cracking his knuckles. Some quick work bypassed the password. He fiddled with one of his pockets, pulled out a USB and plugged it in.

“_I'm in. Hey now, either Juanito is smarter than he looks or,” _keys clicked, “_Nope. He's not. Scape goat all the way. Darn.”_

“Can you still get anything useful out of it?”

“_Yeah, I just need a minute.”_

“Awesome. I'm going to go have a chat with my new friend.”

Juan was still perched precariously in the window sill, so Red Hood mosied on over and leaned against the wall next to it, a picture of amiable concern.

“So, Juan, can I call you Juan? Thanks,” the man crossed his arms and hooked an ankle around the other, “I've got a few questions and you're going to answer them, okay? If you do that, I'll let you down. If not. Well...” he peered out the window, “That's a mighty long drop.”

Red Hood reached out and carefully tugged the gag away from Juan's mouth.

“Get me down! For the love of god, please! Get me down I'll tell you anything you want to know, just-”

Hood shushed the man gently with a gloved finger to the lips.

“No, no. That's not how things like this work, see? You tell me what I want to know, and _then_ I let you down,” Hood smiled, a beautiful smile that sent criminals running in fear of their lives and various assets. Juan whimpered, “Numero Uno, amigo – who the fuck was that?”

“I don't – I don't know! There was this girl -” he sobbed, “-then this guy -”

“I don't like repeating myself,” Red Hood pulled a knife and ran the flat of the blade along the ties. It vibrated faintly, “So don't make me.”

“_No-one! I don't know!”_ Juan shrieked, “Oh, god, I never seen them before, ever! Said they was nobody and that I'd wouldn't have heard of them before either.”

“No-one, huh?”

“_I'm done.”_ Roy said in his ear, “_Ready when you are.”_

Red Hood slid the flat of the blade all the way up to where it tied to Juan, then caressed the mans cheek with the sharp edge, clipping a few hairs as he did. Juan turned white.

“Numero dos – Wait, I don't actually have another question for you. You know why I'm here,” Red Hood said, “running shipments of kids like that. Preying on your own family. Your own nephews, Juan, that's some real classy degenerate stuff right there.”

Juan sobbed. Red Hood re-gagged him.

“And what you did to your sister when she found out?” the vigilante tsk'd. He stepped away from the chair back to the bed and sawed at the ties as the freak screamed into his gag. When the it was three-quarters cut, Red Hood put the knife away. “Sodomizing and trafficking little kids and then dabbling in incestuous necrophilia doesn't fly in this city.”

Red Hood saluted and walked away.

“Hasta la later, Juanny-boy.”

...

(A month later)

Jason picked Alfred up from the grocery store.

“Hey, Al,” Jason had his hands stuffed in his pockets and was leaning against a car.

“Master Jason.”

Alfred had been slightly worried, for silly, nonsensical and thoroughly irrational reasons, that the young man would not show and the amount of relief he felt at the sight of his wayward grandchild surprised him. Alfred slowly exited his own - an older model marquis that was nondescript enough, while Jason retrieved the crutches with out being asked. Alfred shut and locked his car, then transferred himself to Jason's vehicle (the door of which the young man was holding open with a cheeky grin. Alfred 'accidentally' whacked him with a crutch). It was an Impala, not a classic, but not recent, dark blue, and probably ran like a dream.

“You ready, Al?”

Alfred sighed and let himself relax into the seat.

“As I'll ever be, young master, as I'll ever be.”

“You know,” Jason put the car in gear, “You should really just start calling me 'Jason'. I'm not your employer and I'm not part of that family.”

“Hmph.”

The drive went by surprisingly fast. It seemed to Alfred that he'd only just shut his eyes and when he'd opened them, Jason was pulling into the parking lot.

“Hey, Alfred. You don't look so hot.”

“I'm as well as can be expected, Master Jason.” Alfred reached for his cane and was horrified at how badly his hands were shaking.

“I think you should tell Bruce what's wrong,” Jason pulled the car up to the front doors and let the car idle. “He can cut back on your workload or something.”

“Absolutely not!”

Poor boy startled at his vehemence.

“I'll take my penance as it comes, young man. There is no need to bother the Master about my being a little bit sick.”

He narrowed his eyes as Jason mouthed incredulously '_a little bit sick'._

“But- Al- It's _cancer_. It's not like the flu or anything.”

“No.” Alfred scowled severely, “I have made up my mind and neither you nor Leslie can change it. No one else must know. There is more than enough on everyone's plates at the moment without my adding to it. Now, have I made myself clear, young man?”

Jason looked both semi-frightened and upset. Alfred did not enjoy putting that look there, but it had to be done and he refused to regret it.

“This is something that I want, and you yourself agreed to listen, did you not?” Alfred pressed gently, “Already, I'm doing much better than my initial diagnosis. There will be ups and down's, of course. When is there not?”

“You know they'd clear their plates for you if you even hinted at needing help.” Jason protested halfheartedly.

“I know this.” Alfred smiled tiredly, “But that's not what I want. I want to be treated like I always am, not like glass, or a specimen to be cared for.”

Jason nodded. He still looked a bit upset, but that was expected.

“Okay,” he muttered, “Alright. That just means that if you _do_ need anything, you have to call me. _Anything_.” Jason looked at him earnestly, “Even if I have to dress up undercover and clean house for you, deliver groceries, or punch Bruce when he's being a dick. All you have to do is ask, because I'm here. Laying low, but still here.”

Alfred snorted. Touched despite himself.

“My boy, if it ever comes to that, I will most wholeheartedly take you up on the offer.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation from the end of the last chapter. Jason freaks. Flirts. Gets teased. Is helpful. 
> 
> *I love Maggie, even though she was only in like, one episode.

“You're right on time. The meet and greet just started, the brunch is in about thirty minutes followed by a presentation and, oh, Mr. Pennyworth, I have to tell you this.” She paused, one hand on her heart, the other lightly touching Alfreds arm, “The _Mayor_ is coming. Can you believe it?” Dr. Donna laughed, “We were all a flutter. This event is turning out to be so much more than we hoped for.”

“Quite exciting.”

They passed through the house. Everything was painted a soothing sage with cream trim. It was open and roomy and smelled nothing like any clinic Jason had been to before.

“We really wanted people to feel comfortable here,” Dr. Donna was saying, “and a lot of effort went in to making this place what it is today. It's been _years_ in the making.”

“How did you come by it?” Jason asked, “Place like must have cost a small fortune.”

“A little less than, actually.” They passed the kitchen, hard at work and smelling fabulous. “It had been on the market for ages and had been in such disrepair, that we were able to bargain them down. I don't know if you've heard of him, but it's actually the old Romulus place.”

Explained the wolf, Jason thought.

“The athlete?” Alfred asked after a few moments. “I heard he disappeared.”

“Hmm. The bank foreclosed on it after he was declared dead. A young married couple bought it, then they decided to move, sold the place, the new people trashed it so bad – oh, it was _awful_ – then it was put up on the market and here we are, years later.”

“Quite the history.”

“Mmhmm. Here we are!” Donna led them through a pair of french doors to a large patio set up with round tables and decorations, a small stage and a buffet table. There were several people there already. The woman led them to table with another older woman in a blouse, shorts and bobbed gray hair. She had a sketch book out and was working furiously.

“Maggie!” Donna called, “Luv, let me introduce you to Mr. Alfred Pennyworth and his grandson, oh, I'm so sorry, I've forgotten-”

“Todd.”

“-Todd. Maggie is an artist and an ex-pat like us.”

“Oh, hello.” Maggie looked up at them. There was smudge of something on her cheek. “Pleasure to meet you. Why don't you have a seat? The lemonade is especially good.”

“Madam, the pleasure is all mine.”

Why you sly silver fox, Jason grinned and seated himself on Alfred's other side.

The event went off without a hitch. Brunch was lovely (Maggie's words, but Jason couldn't argue with them). The presentation was informative, the speakers were lively and engaging, and yes, the Mayor did show up. Jason recognized a few journalists by their badges. There were sponsors, Doctors, staff, and patients like Alfred and Maggie. Brochures and papers were handed out. Even the weather held out, but of course, not being located in Gotham itself probably had something to do with that.

It was going so smoothly, Jason knew it wouldn't last. Knew it. In his very bones.

Yet the whole shi-bang remained peaceful and went on swimmingly. Soon it ended and Jason was almost disappointed.

He was grateful as well.

“Do you have an appointment today, too, Alfred?” Maggie was asking.

“I do indeed. However, it is not for another hour, and I believe I might take a short walk around the grounds before the time arrives. Would you care to accompany me?”

“I'd be delighted.”

“Be careful, young man,” Jason said, earning himself a dark look.

The couple got up, Alfred with his cane, Maggie with her sketchbook, linked arms and took off for the path leading to the grounds. It looked safe enough, from Jason's seat, and he suddenly found himself bored out of his mind.

“Do you need anything?”

He turned. A brunette was looking at him. She had a similar shirt to that of Dr. Donna's, but with a khaki skirt and galaxy leggings instead of pants.

“I think I'm good, thanks.”

“Okay,” she deflated a little bit, “Well, if you want a tour or anything, let me know. They really want to show off. Hell, they even put in a library.”

“They did?” Surprised, Jason considered it and got up, “I guess a quick tour couldn't hurt.”

A book would keep him from brooding and would give him something else to do instead of watch Alfred and Maggie take their walk.

They walked in silence, the young woman occasionally pointing things out like, “That's the pool area for classes and rehabilitation,” and “that's the gym, it came with the place apparently.”

“Can I smoke?”

She snorted.

“No. Not in the building. You have to go to the far side of the lawn for that, your car, or sneak to the roof. Here we are. One library, complete with comfy chairs, requisite books, and therapy kitty.” A small tortie slunk out from beneath a chair to curl around Jason's legs. It sniffed briefly at the woman, growled, then went back to Jason. The woman sighed and muttered something derogatory about the cat.

“Anyways, I'll let Mr. Pennyworth know where you are if I see him.”

“Thanks. Oh, can I just bring the book back to the table?”

“Sure.” And she was gone.

Jason picked up the cat and browsed the books. There were a lot of classics. Quite a few on holistic medicine. Shelves of medical journals. Published experiments and studies. Childrens books. The titles escaped him as his attention began to drift.

Was this really the way Alfred wanted to go about his cancer? Wouldn't chemotherapy be so much quicker? More efficient? Unbidden came the image of Alfred, still frail from his six month recuperation, laying in a hospital hooked up to whatever radiation machine (or however they did it) and looking like death. Bile rose. A horribly sick feeling squirmed in his stomach. He swallowed. Something like that might kill Alfred as quickly as a bullet.

Jason picked up a book at random, determined to distract himself, and left the library.

...

Alfred escorted Maggie to her designated appointment room. She thanked him generously and rather obviously stated that she'd like to talk to him more later. Even going so far as to write her number on one of the sheets in her sketch book, rip it out, and force it on him. 

Stunned and more than a bit flattered, Alfred made his way slowly towards where he'd left the young sir on the patio with his book. As he approached an open door, he heard the giggling of feminine voices. 

"...He's so attractive," one swooned. "Like Mr. Darcy."

"You're joking right?" asked a dryer, amused voice, "Did you see the scowl on his face?"

"Mr. Darcy scowls. Sexily."

"So does Heathcliff."

"Who?"

"What on earth are you ladies nattering about?" Dr. Donna's voice cut in. 

"Bonnie thinks Pennyworth's grandson is hot," said the dry voice. 

"Reagan!" Bonnie squeaked, "I didn't hear you say otherwise."

"And you wont. It's a nice face, scars, broke nose and all."

Alfred stopped dead in a moment of pure amusement.

"You're both being ridiculous," Dr. Donna sighed exasperatedly, "Honestly. Are you teenagers? I expect better of both of you from now, am I understood? No more such gossip, especially at work."

The ladies assented and Alfred had to hand it to Donna for efficiently laying down the law. He quickly felt some guilt for listening in on such gossip (no matter how amusing) and hastily turned and began to move as quickly as he could in the other direction. A gut feeling telling him to get a move on before he got caught. He stopped at the hallway intersection and turned, unsure of which way to go, when,

"Oh, Mr. Pennyworth!" Dr. Donna called out, "Fancy seeing you around here." He turned and caught her shooting a pointed glance into the open door he'd left moments ago.

"Ah yes," Alfred cleared his throat, "I just left Maggie in her room. A lovely woman for sure."

"Wonderful!" the aging ginger caught up to him and murmured quietly, "Alright, out with it, sir, how much did you hear?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," replied the old man, "But I'm sure it was vastly entertaining."

Donna grinned, and Alfred knew they were on the same page.

"Oh, dear. You have no idea. Those two. They'll drive me bonkers yet." She went on, hush hush, "One's a tart and the other is hard to pin down, so it's a rare day to hear them agree on something even just a little bit. But they're friends. Strange girls."

Alfred nodded, thinking of two other girls very dear to his heart who might very well drive him bonkers, too, if their Father/Mentor did not do it first.

"My dear, I understand completely."

...

Jason scowled darkly at the books in the little library. He'd finished the one and had made his way back to put the volume away, passing Alfred and Dr. Donna on his way. The woman had grinned at him a little too widely, while Alfred had that amused look on his face, like they were sharing some kind of inside joke.

(Jason didn't want to know.)

Now, left to his own devices, surrounded by a hundred or so medical texts and fiction books, the mild panic he'd been fighting off began settling in again. It was easy to drive off the dark thoughts while he was with Roy. Easy to concentrate on getting the job at hand done. Easy to push away the _what if's_ and _could happens_ while lurking around Gotham, avoiding the bats, and furthering his own agenda's. Believing, foolishly, _childishly_, that nothing could ever possibly do Alfred in. 

But the here and now...? Jason's fist trembled. What good were all his skills now? What was he doing wrong? Why was this happening?

His breath caught and his chest tightened - _could he do this?_ Could he be the responsible one that Alfred could lean on? Could Alfred trust him enough to call on him for other things and not just driving him to and from his appointments? Jason was a royal fuck up, everyone knew that, what the fuck was Alfred thinking?

His pulse roared in his ears and his heart thundered against his chest, striving to break free.

Alfred could die, and Jason knew that it would be, somehow, all his fault, because he wasn't good enough. He was never good enough. 

"Are you okay?"

The world tilted. 

_What if Alfred died?_

"Mr. Pennyworth?" something brushed his arm and Jason flinched.

"Don't touch me," he rasped. It hurt to speak.

"You're having a panic attack," the soft voice continued, "I need you to concentrate and breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth, ride it all out."

Jason growled incoherently. 

"Breath," the voice commanded gently, and Jason did so raggedly. "Yes. You did great. Let's do it again."

He breathed and slowly became aware of his aching body and gradual loosening tightness in his chest. There was also a warmth in his lap and a loud thrumming. 

Jason blinked and looked down. The tortie from earlier meowed and reached up to bat his face, purring louder than the batmobile.

"Hey, cat." then, "Why am I on the floor?"

"You had a panic attack." Jason turned and saw the young woman who'd first showed him the library. She smiled wryly at him and gestured to her arm, "Mind letting go?"

"What? Oh," Jason glanced down and realized he had an iron grip on the woman's fore-arm. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It was an accident," she waved it off, flexing her hand and arm, "A little arnica and it wont even bruise."

Jason had no idea what she was talking about, but okay. 

"You feeling better?" She asked suddenly. "I'm not asking you to tell me what had you upset, just, are you going to be alright?"

He thought about it. Tried to categorize what aches and pains were physical and which were emotional and which came from the night life.

"I've been better. Sore, but I'm alive."

The cat rammed its head into his chin. He scratched its ears. 

"Do you have panic attacks often?" she asked quietly.

"No," he answered truthfully, "I'm pretty sure that's the first one I've had in..."

Years. He hadn't had one since before he was Robin and had honestly forgotten about it until just then. 

"Okay. So, I know a little about Mr. Pennyworth. If I guessed that you're sitting on the floor a clammy mess because you're worried about him, would I be far off?"

Jason stared at her. The tortie got on her hind legs and shoved her face in his. 

"You should know that the most important part of all treatment is the support of the person being treated. Even if a body knows he'll get better, but also knows that no one cares if he does or not, his treatment is more likely to fail," the woman went on, "It's when that person knows, without a doubt, that their family loves and supports them 100% and are with them every step of the way, even if they're across the damn continent, even just by phone, that's when miracles happen. So, you just being here with him? That's huge."

She smiled at him wryly, "Unless, of course, I was completely wrong, then ignore me."

"No. Uh." Jason cleared his throat, feeling lighter than he had all day, "Not completely."

The woman huffed and stood. 

"Well, then. Up and at 'em, muscles," she held out a hand and wriggled it at him. He clasped it and allowed her to help pull him up, while he held the cat against his chest with his other arm. She was strong. 

"Nice grip."

"Thanks." She winked mischievously, "Not so bad yourself, I guess." 

...

Alfred watched the pair approach with a curious eye. 

Master Jason seemed to walk with a lighter step with a small tortoise shell cat draped over his shoulder, while his escort gestured animatedly as she chatted. She had also, for some reason on this gloriously warm day, chosen to roll her sleeves down. Strange girl. Though, perhaps the strangest part was that Master Jason seemed to be genuinely interested in whatever the young woman was saying. Not to say that Master Jason didn't pay attention when women spoke to him - Actually, Alfred couldn't recall for sure that he'd ever seen the young man interact recently with the female species outside of the Batgirls. Or from before that horrible event some years ago.

Interesting, indeed.

"All is well, I assume?" Alfred inquired.

"Just fine," Jason smiled at him, surprisingly relaxed, "Got lost in the books is all."

The young woman, Donna's apprentice, nodded along. Alfred lifted a brow, carefully checking for the closeness or signs that implied certain activities and found none. He'd been on the _noticing end_ of more than one of a much younger Master Brucie's earlier conquests (and even one of young Master Dickie's) to not be suspicious. 

"Promise," Jason said, "Scouts honor."

Alfred scoffed. 

"Well, if you're done enriching your young, curious mind, we have groceries to purchase and dinner to attend to. Farewell, Miss, we shall meet again within the month."

"Goodbye, Mr. Pennyworth," the young woman turned a toothy smile on the young master, "later, Muscles."

Jason snorted and put the cat down. "Be seein' you, Legs."

The woman let out a bright, sharp laugh and her ears pinked. 

They left, and Master Jason's scarlet neck did not fade until they were in the car. 

...

"How did your appointment go?" Jason asked later as they hit the highway. 

"It went quite well, thank you," Alfred replied. "It really was more of a check up than anything else. She answered some of my questions and talked quite a bit about the regiment and methods we'd agreed to try first."

Jason frowned. 

"I should have been in there with you. I'm sorry, Alfred."

"Dear boy," Alfred sighed, "You were on the premises. Sat with me through the presentation. Drove me there, are driving me back, will be doing my shopping for me - which is incredibly abhorrent, mind you. I absolutely loathe having other people shop for me. Will also be putting the groceries away while I make a spot of tea, and prepping dinner for me. Do not fret about not being in the exam room with me and flirting with the pretty girl sent to fetch you, instead."

"NO. I mean, I wasn't," Jason sputtered and turned as bright as his helmet. "You think..."

"Well, the two of you did seem friendly. One does not idly call a female just met by an attractive body part. I _do_ remember being young once myself, you know."

Alfred almost laughed at the young man's horrified look. 

"Just. No, stop, please," Jason groaned, "Don't. It's not safe teasing the driver, Alfred. Don't be cruel."

Alfred chuckled. Jason went on,

"Besides. I pretty sure she was just teasing me. So I teased back."

"My dear boy, all the cool kids call that flirting."

"Ugh."

Smirking, Alfred let the man alone to drive. Soon, though, Jason's face settled into awkward seriousness. 

"Actually, A," he began somewhat hesitantly, "I didn't show up because I was flirting."

"Oh?"

Silence.

"I had a panic attack."

Oh dear. What on earth, though, would the young master have been panicking about-? Oh.

"Over me."

Jason didn't say anything at first, so Alfred waited. 

"It hurt. I haven't had one like that since I was a kid. I'd forgotten... Anyways. That's how she found me." The young master admitted quietly, "We talked a bit. Well, she talked."

"It must have helped. You had quite the light step."

"Yeah." Jason smiled wryly, "I think so. I certainly feel lighter."

Alfred marveled quietly. 

He would need to send Leslie a thank you note. 

...

The rest of the day went fairly well. There was a minor mishap at the grocery market when they didn't have what Alfred required. Jason nearly had another panic attack when he spotted Bruce's car and another, unfamiliar one idling in the driveway, but Alfred assured him that the Master was away still and that the mechanic was just dropping it off. A fact proved when a portly black man got out of the Mercedes and waved his cap at them.

Jason collected the keys from Mr. Brown and parked the Mercedes for Alfred while the butler unlocked the house.

Jason brought all the groceries in and began putting them away while Alfred got the tea started and instructed the young man on where things went. 

Jason pulled out the necessary items for dinner and began prepping them. Even going so far as to set out a pot with water and rice, already salted with a little oil, on the stove to soak before cooking later that evening.

These were things Alfred could do on his own, but he was still moving slower than normal and would continue to do so for several more months, so chores and housework took time. It was also good to have company. The butler considered himself blessed and thanked the Lord. 

...

Later that night, after dinner and after seeing his family off on their nightly crusade, Alfred trekked back to his room and wondered how long it would take for him to return to his former usefulness. He entered and began his nightly routine. Emptying out his pockets and came across Maggie's sketch with her number on it. It was a pair of robins perched on a cobblestone wall. 

Alfred smiled at the sketch and propped it up on his dresser. He would call her tomorrow, he decided firmly, and see if she'd like to meet for tea.

(Yes, Leslie was definitely getting a thank you note.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the humor came out humorous and the seriousness came out seriously ;) Yes, I do realize some stuff probably could have been cut, but it pleased and amused me to keep it in. 
> 
> Please take a moment at the end and let me know what you think.


End file.
